One Minute to Midnight
by Rialus
Summary: Daphne Greengrass is known as the Ice Queen of Slytherin for a reason. But after a painful failure in the service of the Dark Lord, she is given a chance to redeem herself with a new mission that may prove more challenging than anything she has attempted before: courting Blaise Zabini.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **One Minute to Midnight.

**Summary:** Daphne Greengrass is known as the Ice Queen of Slytherin for a reason. But after a painful failure in the service of the Dark Lord, she is given a chance to redeem herself with a new mission that may prove more challenging than anything she has attempted before: courting Blaise Zabini.

**Warnings:** This story contains descriptions of war, violence, death, language, and other mature and/or disturbing content not necessarily suitable for minors. Please refer to the rating and genre before reading.

**Disclaimer:** All characters, locations, and setting in this story belong to J.K Rowling and do not contribute to any personal profits or other tangible material gains.

**Chapter 1.**

Quiet footsteps scuttling across the hall alerted me to the presence of another. I swallowed, trying to restrain my breathing and lower my heart rate as Lestrange had taught me. An unpleasant, thick layer of saliva clung to the roof of my mouth. Slowly, I drew my wand from its holster and took a step forward into the next room.

The floorboard creaked beneath me, producing a groan that seemed impossibly loud in the silent building.

_Steady, Greengrass! _I ordered myself, flattening my back against the wall in case I came under spellfire. The words for a strong shielding charm were on my lips, wand levied.

A rodent scurried across the floor and dissapeared out of sight, seeking refuge in some small nook. But there was no one else there.

I breathed a sigh of relief, but didn't let my guard down. I had made that mistake before, and it nearly cost me my life. No, whether there was anyone there or not, I would be ready.

I motioned to my right, giving the "all clear" signal, and my partner stepped through the other door, backing towards me with her wand covering our rear flank.

"Keep alert," I muttered. "I don't see anyone now, but that doesn't mean they're not Disillusioned or Obsfucated."

She looked up from underneath her hood, meeting my eyes, and gave a single nod. The petite girl moved swiftly to the ward stone in the center of the room. It was hard to make out in the low light of evening, but there were runes etched alongside either side of the stone, glowing with faint resonance. There was a palpitable feeling of raw power eminating from it. I kept my distance.

My partner waved her wand a few times, performing the Charms needed to make the correct diagnosis of the facility's wards. I held my breath, fighting a twinge of anxiety. We always worked in pairs, that was the rule. We had been trained that way since the Dark Lord's return. A lone teenager is a cause for suspicion anywhere, but two teenage girls together? That was the most ordinary thing in the world.

I trusted her ability, of course. Nevertheless, I always found myself a little nervous at these times during our missions, where even a slight mistake could lead to ambush by Aurors or even a Hit Wizard team. I kept my face perfectly calm as she worked, a bead of sweat rolling down her cheek. It wouldn't do to show any mistrust or weakness in the face of danger.

There was a flash of light. I turned my head reflexively before regarding the source. An image of our minder appeared in front of us, his face shrouded by an enchantment of some sort.

"What have you discovered?" he said simply. We did not use names while on a mission. The walls have ears, after all, especially where magic was concerned. Anything could be recorded or overheard with the slightest ease.

I gave deference to the other girl, who had her wand raised, maintaining the connection.

"At first glance, there doesn't appear to be much security at all," she said, squinting back at the runes. "I disabled the basic alarms and monitoring wards but they're hardly more complicated than OWL level. But there is an extra layer of warding beyond that and I'm not familiar with the runes used."

"Copy them with the Protean charm and I will let you know. Have either of you run into anyone else?"

I shook my head, watching my partner amass all her concentration into casting the charm while maintaining the connection to our minder.

"Let's see," he said now, talking more to himself than anyone else. "Sun Rune. Rune of Plentiful Harvest. Water and oak. These are Welsh runes. They symbolize concealment and protection. I would advise something a little more potent than the standard counter. Erect your own concealment ward and make that cover the existing ward. This way, the existing system thinks that you ought to be keyed in, but you won't have to bother with the risk of disabling it. Leave at once if anything goes wrong."

He cut off the charm and his image dissipated, leaving us once more in the dark.

I looked from side to side, standing guard over my partner as she now set to work with a small knife she kept with her, carving an additional set of runes around the edge of the ward stone. The girl was only a year younger than me, but already had an incredible knowledge of subjects like Charms, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy, performing them at NEWT level. This wasn't an accident. The Dark Lord in his wisdom had ensured that all of his operatives had complementary skills. I was better at Defense and Potions. As the elder, I was also in charge and responsible for the success of the mission.

"Hurry," I intoned, gripping my wand a little tighter. "We have to get moving soon if we don't want to get caught."

I didn't intend to sound harsh, but that wasn't always my strong point. I had built a reputation on getting my way.

She spun around to face me. "Then don't just stand there, _come here and help me_. I just finished with the last rune." Although her face was barely visible, her voice betrayed her distress.

I might have reprimanded her for this lip if she hadn't already taxed herself so much with the spellwork. Besides, we couldn't afford to get into a fight with one another. Not here.

I shrugged my shoulders in apology, stepping behind her and casting a Lumos. While my knowledge of Runes wasn't as extensive as her own, I could still check her work. After a brief minute passed, I nodded in confirmation, and we joined hands.

Holding our wands in the other hand, we activated the new ward together, watching the vibrations of the ward stone grow stronger as the resonance frequency was altered. It was sort of captivating, really, feeling the powerful magic respond to our will and imbue itself in the stone. The spectacle of light would have entranced me if not for the present danger of our situation.

Superseding the concealment ward had revealed a new door at the other end of the room. There was a plaque on the door. It read:

**MOST DANGEROUS WARD FOR MOST DANGEROUS ARTIFACTS**

**DO NOT ENTER**

**OR – DON'T EXPECT TO LEAVE**

We exchanged glances, moving to it without delay. My partner gave me a look. Of course we were going to enter. We came this far, didn't we?

I took the lead, placing my hand on the handle and cautiously turning it. It gave way – there was no other locking charm – and I stepped ahead into the next chamber, already casting a scanning charm to detect any other presence.

But this room was also empty. There was only row upon row of locked cabinets.

We had been well briefed on this place beforehand. Each artefact was stored in its own box, labelled by a number. The boxes were protected by some of the strongest anti-burglary Charms. They could only be opened by a single Muggle-type key that was uniquely identified by the wards. It was for this reason they didn't bother to leave any guards in the immediate vicinity.

Luckily for me, I had the key. We had been passed it in advance by our minder, who had procured it from his contacts at the Ministry. The key had a series of digits on it. It didn't take me long to find the right place, which was second to last along a long row of locks near the floor.

It was a risky job for two underaged witches, but nevertheless a necessary one. Minors weren't subject to the same laws as adults and would rarely be sent to Azkaban for crimes. Their families were often levied hefty fines if they were purebloods, or else they were expelled from their schools or given some sort of temporary punishment, like being confined to the Restricted Ward at St. Mungo's. For two children in the service of the Dark Lord, who was powerful enough politically and magically to negate any of these options, these were hardly a punishment at all, as long we didn't carry the Dark Mark. And we didn't. That would be foolish while still in school, under the careful watch of Light wizards such as Albus Dumbledore.

By contrast, adults could receive long prison sentences or permanent exile from the Wizarding world. They could even have their magic taken from them or receive the Kiss for particularly noteworthy crimes. That's why I knew the greatest danger were whatever traps and enchantments were guarding the object that we were sent to steal.

An important Dark heirloom had been seized by the Ministry during the last war and had been held in secrecy. An insider at the Ministry had managed to get it transferred to the private collections at the British Museum of Magical History. It wasn't an easy place to get into, but it wasn't the Department of Mysteries either – now under extreme scrutiny after the events in June with the Potter boy.

I pressed the key in the lock and was relieved to see it turn cleanly, the little steel door on the compartment swinging open on its hinge. I let out a breath that I didn't know I had been holding.

Reaching my hand inside, I pulled out a thinly-bound book with a dark navy color. There was no title on the spine. I had been warned not to open it. Despite my curiosity, I was not a foolhardy Gryffindor and I was well aware of the danger of some magical artefacts. I gave a thumbs-up to my partner and closed the compartment, removing the key. I slipped it, along with the book, in my bag and made immediately for the exit.

It was hard to contain my excitement at the prize we had claimed. _We had done it!_ I couldn't wait to report back our success to the Dark Lord. I thought of all of our ancestors, and the great works they had done, only to be treated as criminals and demonized by so-called benevolent wizards, who were more afraid of Dark magic than anything else. It was disgusting. Our community had only suffered since then, forced into the shadows over time. Anything I could do to help our side in the struggle for freedom and restore respect to our people, I would do, no questions asked. Now, we just had to get out of this infernal place.

We were no less than five steps from the door when I was blasted off my feet by a tremendous explosion. There was a great shudder beneath my feet, and I didn't even have the time to put two thoughts together before I felt myself falling, utter blackness enveloping me as my Lumos charm extinguished and I knew no more.

* * *

I woke up in a fog, my senses completely disconnected from any awareness of reality. I felt an acute pain in my shoulder and groaned, rubbing it tenderly as I reached around for my wand, only to find it missing. There also was an uncomfortable burning beneath my ribs and I reflexively lashed out with my hand, but instead made contact with something solid, which rolled away from me and fell onto the floor with a crash.

"You've awoken," a cold voice said from somewhere above me. "Reparo."

I opened one eye just in time to see the pieces of a destroyed potion flask fit themselves back together in mid air. Then I turned my head, and saw a figure standing only a foot or two away, looking at me expectantly. My blood ran cold. The Dark Lord was here. Where was I? And more importantly, what the hell had happened?

I immediately attempted to sit up straight, though I felt dead sore. "M'lord..." I muttered, making a clumsy attempt to bow my head in deference.

This was only the second time I had ever seen the Dark Lord in person. He seemed to stare at me for a long while, and I twitched uncomfortably under his gaze, waiting. I was really starting to wonder what was going on, but it would have been out of line to start demanding answers from Lord Voldemort.

At last he spoke.

"I ought to Crucio you for your failure."

I frowned. Failure? What was he talking about?

"...I'm sorry, m'Lord, I don't understand-?"

This wasn't quite the right thing to say and seemed only to antagonize him.

"What is there to understand, you foolish girl?" he spat. "The object that you retrieve had an additional curse attached to it, one that you did not check carefully enough for. When it activated, you were knocked out and trapped by one of the security wards. I had to send in Malfoy to rescue the both of you. You seem to have fared all right, but the girl you went with, I'm afraid to say, was not nearly so lucky!"

I felt a twinge of guilt. "What- what happened to her?"

"She is alive, but only just. She will be recovering for some time, no thanks to your carelessness."

My stomach sank. Even though some protections could be very difficult to spot, it was nevertheless unacceptable to have made this sort of elementary mistake. I had never failed in a mission before. Still, whatever my own feelings or regret, there was nothing I could really do to assuage the Dark Lord's wrath. He was very angry but honestly, he had a right to be.

"I had my reservations about selecting you in the first place and it seems that I was right to doubt your ability," he continued. "I was not sure if you were ready for the responsibility of acting the part of a Death Eater. These missions are essential to winning the war and there is no room for childish error. Is this what I am to expect from the Greengrass family? Is your sister at Hogwarts also this weak?"

I sat there motionless, taking in his words. I was responsible for this. The failure of the mission. My partner's safety. It wasn't something that I took lightly. I felt like a small girl being scolded, but instead of a spanking, this man could very well just kill me on the spot. _Or worse_, I thought with a gulp.

"Fortunately for you, none of you were caught, but it raised alarms so we cannot return any time soon. And worse, Lucius reported to me that the book was very heavily damaged – a priceless artefact, completely ruined and beyond repair!"

I knew that I was really was mere moments from being Crucioed or worse, so I decided to speak up quickly to try to mitigate the situation. I put on my most innocent face.

"I am sorry m'Lord, I take full responsibility and accept whatever punishment you deign fair. I promise I won't fail you again."

He laughed as if I had just said something highly amusing.

"Oh no, you have one thing wrong, girl. Your fate is mine to decide regardless of what you choose to 'accept' or not! And you won't fail me again, because I am removing you from any further missions of this nature. You have shown me you are not ready yet; you need more training and perhaps when you are of age I will reconsider..."

I lowered my head shamefully, feeling the bitter disgrace. It had all happened so fast, and I was not used to failure. Up until now, I had felt utterly calm, collected, and in control of my future. I was doing well in school and had respect in Slytherin. Wherever I went, those around me hung on my words and heeded my quick curses. Since the time I was very young, I realized that I had this power over others. With a few breathless words and a flip of hair, I was able to control people, influence them, and manipulate them to do whatever I wanted. Some natural charm and a little wand work went a long way.

I was desperate to say something to my Master, to protest, to do anything to save myself from this new humiliation, but once the Dark Lord made a decision, it was final, and my fate felt entirely out of my hands.

"However," Voldemort said. "This is your first slip up and I have decided to be merciful. You have skills and Lord Voldemort always recognizes potential. I intend to put those skills to work on something else of interest to me. You shall be given another chance, but not in the field."

I tilted my head in confusion, broken out my thoughts. Not in the field? Was he giving me some menial task? Was I to spend the next months combing through dusty books, or even polishing the boots of his Inner Circle?

"There is a boy at Hogwarts that I am interested in recruiting to my service. Blaise Zabini, I believe you know him, he is one of your classmates, yes?"

Zabini? Of course I knew him. "Yes, m'Lord. He is in my year in Slytherin."

"My other spies at Hogwarts have reported that Zabini shows great promise and has an affinity at dueling, with top marks in your year in Defense just after Potter. If he has power, I want him to be ready to join my ranks just as you have. Furthermore, his mother is well known in our community, of course, the widower, and her wealth would be most useful to our cause in this war."

I nodded a few times. All of this was true, I was aware of it, but what was the Dark Lord getting at?

"Nevertheless. I know that Dumbledore has made outreaches to the Zabini family in the past and I cannot count on his automatic loyalty. He has not avowed any particular allegiance, but it seems that he has stayed aloof of our usual circles. If he has sympathies with the Light, as I suspect he may, whether it's the Ministry, the Order of the Phoenix, I don't really care, I want them squashed!"

Now I started to see where this was going. "You want me to spy on him, m'Lord."

"Spy on him, lie to him, learn everything you can about him. And most importantly, I want you to seduce him."

I blinked. This was further than I had expected the Dark Lord to go. Not that Zabini was bad looking or anything, he had a certain dark handsome appeal, I suppose, but I had never really thought much about him in_ that way_, and this was a little outside the realm of anything I had ever been asked to do.

"Seduce him? You mean, like, make him fall in love with me? Would that really help?"

It sounded like something a naïve schoolgirl would ask, rather than Daphne Greengrass, proud Pureblood, and I regretted it as soon as I said it. Sure enough, the Dark Lord was quick to correct me.

"I would not have ordered it if I did not think so, so watch your tongue. Do not underestimate the power of love can be used against friend and foe alike. It is a pathetic weakness when you let it control you, yes, but wielded as a tool, it has served me well in the past when necessary. So yes, that is exactly what I mean for you to do."

I knew that I could probably manage, of course, but nerves fluttered in my stomach. I had been with my share of boyfriends, but honestly, it was far easier to slit the throat of a potential enemy than to court one.

"What am I to do specifically, m'Lord?"

The Dark Lord smiled icily. "Make him sing your praises, let him get close to you, become his friend until he holds you in the highest regard. Only when he trusts you completely will you have a chance to convert him to our side. The stakes are higher than ever right now and we need every supporter we can get. Do whatever it is that you have do."

He strode towards the door, leaving me lying there in the bed in which I had awoken. He peered back at me, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as I felt his powerful magic stir.

"Oh and one more thing, Greengrass."

"M'lord?"

"Do not fail me this time, or there will be consequences."

With that, my Master was gone, and I knew that everything had just gotten a lot more interesting this year at Hogwarts.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'll probably update this story two to three times a week depending on chapter length and how much of the remaining details I have time to think through. The essential plot has already been determined, but it's a bit hard to judge how long the final story will be. If you've made it this far (that is, past the first chapter!), thanks for reading and reviewing, and hopefully I'll see this through to completion.

**Chapter 2.**

It was the morning that we were due to return to Hogwarts and all I could hear was the incessant babbling of my younger sister Astoria, who was now talking at breakneck speed about the latest gossip from her friends – who had broken up with who, whose younger siblings were likely to be sorted into which Houses, what the best odds were on the House Cup, and so on.

I smiled thinly, already getting a mild headache. It was harmless, though, so I chose to tolerate her antics. Astoria was only two years my junior, but I could see her already maturing into a young woman. She would have to be more careful this year, her fourth year, since she had filled out over the summer and I knew the boys would be all over her. She had been through a few of them already, but they were mostly flings, cute pre-adolescent romances, and nothing too serious.

It wasn't that I didn't care about what she was saying. Knowledge was always useful, however trite, and I had always prided myself on my careful understanding of the social ladder. Still, I couldn't quite bring myself to worry about all of the details at the moment. I had a lot on my mind.

"Daphne? Daphne, are you listening to me? Daphne!"

I broke out of my thoughts, directing my attention back to her. We had been walking along the station at King's Cross, and I knew we had were getting close to Platform 9 ¾. We took a left past a Muggle escalator and proceeded towards the platforms.

"Mm?" I muttered. "Yes, of course, I'm listening. What was that about Jacob Astor, has he already broken up with that Hufflepuff girl, what's her name..."

"Laura Madley."

"Yes, Madley. Third year. I wouldn't have expected it to last long, not at that age, she's probably two boyfriends ahead of him by now."

"She's only a year younger than me, you know."

"Yes, well, fourteen is a lot older than thirteen," I said. "You're finding that out right about now, I expect."

Astoria nodded, but even her bubbly excitement had started to fade, and her pace slowed by half a step. "Maybe, but I know you're not really listening to me. You seem distracted," she said, a hint of concern in her voice. "I'm sorry, I've been only talking about myself and my friends."

I held my hand out, stopping her in the middle of the crowd only paces from the barrier to the Hogwarts Express. People walked by us, oblivious that we were anything but another couple of teenagers milling about the station.

"No, don't take it the wrong way. I'm all right with that," I reassured her with a sigh. "Really. And I do care! These details matter and I don't want you to feel like you can't talk to me."

"Just what? You don't want to be around your little sister. I get it. Ever since you've – well, you know – you've been so busy and important, and I feel like we used to be so close, I mean we did everything together. I know I can't expect it to always be like this but I thought at least..."

She said all of this in one breath, and the bitterness in her voice made me feel just a bit guilty, like only a sister could. I had been doing my best, but there was truth in her words and it was obvious that this had been weighing on her for some time.

"No, you can't expect that nothing will change," I said gently. "A lot will change before all of this is over. It might take many years, no one really knows. But I don't want you to feel like you can't talk to me, no matter what happens." I wrapped an arm around her reassuringly, giving her a quick hug.

"I know," she said. "And I want to believe that, but it just doesn't feel like it's true any more."

I shook my head. "What you have to understand, Astoria, is that not only is the war is getting more serious, but I also have to start my NEWTs this year. That's just the way things are going to be, but you're my sister and I will _always_ have time for you."

With a quick glance to either side, I lowered my voice, one hand on her shoulder. I pulled her closer to me. "And you know that I am working for the Dark Lord as well, and he is demanding more of my time and attention. So forgive me if I do seem a bit more distant, because that isn't my intention."

There was a long pause. She forced a bit of a smile, but a group of Hogwarts students were coming up behind us now, and we both assumed our stony, indifferent masks. Whatever had passed between us was no longer immediately relevant. This was the rule that every Slytherin student learned to abide by. We weren't devoid of emotion or soulless, but there was a time and place for everything, and now we needed to maintain our reputation among our peers.

"Go now and join your friends," I said. "I'll see you on the train if I can."

She gave a wave to another girl, who saw us and ran up to Astoria, exchanging greetings. After a moment, they had disappeared through the barrier to the platform.

I followed behind, dragging my trunk along behind me, scanning for any nosy passer-bys and then leaning into the wall between Platforms 9 and 10. With a quiet breath, I prepared myself for the facing the rush of people, both old and new.

* * *

It was the usual game, and the familiarity of it all provided me a certain comfort. This was my element, what I was born and bred for, and I only hoped that my anxiety didn't show through.

I sat among some of my closest companions in our compartment on the train, laughing and joking whenever it was expected of me and interjecting comments at the appropriate time. In these situations one had to exercise restraint, speaking at just the correct moment. Opening your mouth and saying the wrong thing could lead to disaster, but keeping it shut was rarely grave. I had certainly learned that whenever I spoke to the Dark Lord, but it was just as true among friends.

Mother had taught me long ago that the key to being a good conversationalist was to first learn to be a good listener, so that's exactly what I had learned to do. When others talked, they felt important, and when I heard them, they likewise felt I was important.

Draco Malfoy was now in the middle of telling us what he had been up to with his father during the summer. I knew it had been Lucius who had rescued us during our mission and I was quite grateful to the man, who had instructed me in some of the Dark Arts in the past and felt like one of my mentors. What I did not expect, however, was that he had presented his son to the Dark Lord to become a Death Eater. Yet as Draco told it, his face replete with pride, that's exactly what happened at the end of July.

Oh, of course, all of us had served in some capacity by now for Lord Voldemort. We had been trained for this role by our parents since birth, and we happily accepted it as our solemn duty and honour to take the Dark Lord as our Master. It was true that he was a tyrant and expected perfection from his followers, doling out punishments for those who did not measure up to expectations. This was expected from the Dark community, because a Dark Lord unwilling to control his followers would be considered weak and undeserving of allegiance. Anything less would be viewed with disdain.

Could being in the Dark Lord's service feel abusive at times? Maybe, but we adhered closely to our traditions and accepted that this was meant to be, if we were to ever rise up to seize our future from our enemies.

Light wizards tended to speak with niceties in public while stabbing each other in the back in private – they were no better than Dark wizards in that regard. They were cautious to demonstrate their abilities, for fear of being accused of corruption. Dark wizards exercised their power more openly, without fear of persecution, and we respected this power in each other. For this reason, we tended to gravitate towards those who had amassed the most of it and who were strong enough to lead us.

This is why in spite of our harsh ways, the rewards were even greater for those who succeeded. As soon as the Dark Lord had returned at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, we had been worked into His service. It was not until this summer, however, that the Dark Lord could take more direct action, so most of the missions had been covert.

I was surprised by the possibility that Draco had already been marked, which is what he had been implying for several minutes. The Dark Lord was selective, preferring to keep a close-knit group of trusted, capable followers, and usually would not brand those who were underage. It had certain advantages – those marked would have a connection to the Dark Lord and benefit to some degree from his power – but it was also a way to be revealed easily to the Light, who were becoming increasingly paranoid and cautious about the company they kept.

It didn't help that the Ministry was now publicly at war with the Dark Lord since his return in June. They couldn't exactly deny it any more after he had turned up at their own doorstep. Even so, we all wanted more than anything to be recognized as Death Eaters, because it would show that the Dark Lord valued us as his brethren in the struggle. And if Draco had received that honour...

A hush fell over us all as he reached for his sleeve. We knew, somehow, that this was the moment that we had been waiting for, but no one had dared ask. I leaned in a bit closer.

With a dramatic flair – I resisted the urge to roll my eyes – Malfoy peeled back the fabric, flipping it upwards towards his elbow. We at last caught sight of it.

Emblazoned on the pale, fleshy underside of his forearm, a skull outlined in black, with a serpent twisted around it, emanating from its gaping maw. I stared at it, and I could not remain unfeeling. The symbol gripped me. _The Dark Mark._

We offered our congratulations and I tried my best to smile, to maintain the façade which provided me relief from the intolerable sensations that were washing over me. I felt a wrenching in my stomach, as if the snakes from all of the Dark Marks in the world had entered through my veins, and were now tangled up, hissing, writhing, threatening to escape from some cavity deep within. I struggled to keep control of my mask. He had been deemed worthy. Worthy.

So what? What did I care about exactly what happens to Malfoy? I had known him for a long time, yes, but he had never been my closest friend. He was advancing in our ranks. Good for him. Right?

_Or maybe_, an inner voice said nastily. _You're just a bit jealous of what he's accomplished. After all, the Dark Lord said he was disappointed in you, that you had failed him..._

_Shut up!_ I told the voice. I fought to keep control. But was it true? Was I really that pathetic to judge my self-worth on something like this?

I tried to rationalize about the situation. His father was far more well-connected than mine. The Malfoys were perhaps the best known Wizarding family in Britain. What's more, he was a boy and I was a girl and I knew that we were not always treated the same. It took ten times more effort to prove ourselves as mature and capable...

Draco had rolled his sleeve back down now, and the conversation had resumed.

"So, if you've been marked," Theodore Nott said. He was leaning back on the compartment bench, leveling an unfaltering stare at Draco. His face was contemplative. "What are you to do next? Have you been given an assignment yet by, well, you know-?

"The Dark Lord? That would be telling," Draco said, a triumphant smirk still plastered on his thin, annoying face. I had never noticed before just what a terrific prat he was. He wasn't being careful either. What if Potter or one of his friends was eavesdropping? Who knew what charms were on these compartments? I was much more careful than him. I deserved the Dark Lord's trust so much more...

So maybe I was jealous. But this made me even more determined to succeed in my latest mission. I didn't have any particular feelings for Zabini but I could fake it. I was very convincing when I wanted to be. I had already planned it all out...I would first brush into him, make him aware of my interest, and compliment him just enough so he took notice. Then I would back off, and make him chase me, until he wanted nothing more than to be with me...

Then I would have him. I would be back within the Dark Lord's favour, and we could all move on with our lives. Okay, in my heart I knew it wouldn't be that simple, but I had to make it happen. It was the only way to greatness.

Somewhere in my chest, my heart was pounding in spite of my outward demeanor. The etchings of anxiety had been wearing at me ever since the failed mission, but now I realized that for the first time, I felt truly nervous about what was to become of me.

* * *

We were gathered around the benches along the Slytherin table and the last of the new first year's names had just been called. We had gained seven new students, a solid crop compared to last year's five. I nodded my approval at Astoria, who already had two of them sitting next to her chatting away animatedly.

It was well that she was taking the initiative to watch over them. She needed to build up her own circle of influence and besides, we had to watch out for our own, because no one else would. I craned my neck and gazed across the Great Hall, over towards the Gryffindor table, trying to take note of their fresh blood.

I had felt some resentment last year about not being made a Prefect, but for the first time I felt glad not to be burdened with that responsibility. Judging by the way the first years were already glaring at us, I would have been in charge of referring some fights by the end of the week.

"And with the conclusion of the Sorting, I have just a few words to say..." said the old wizened voice of Dumbledore, echoing across at us from the head table. He paused dramatically, his eyes twinkling in that characteristic way which maddened us all. I sighed in annoyance, tapping a finger on my knee until the old man finished with his nonsense.

"Blab! Poof! Tuck in!" Then he waved his hands and all of the plates filled with mounds of food, which heaped well above the table cloth.

What a fool. Or more accurately, what fools everyone were to let him play the doting grandfatherly role. It was this sort of thing that I hated about leaders on the Light side. It was plain to me that Dumbledore was every bit as self-serving and power hungry as the Dark Lord could ever be, and it was worse because he pretended otherwise.

"What do you make of Slughorn taking over Potions?" Tracey Davis asked me, as we served ourselves from the platters. She was probably my best friend in my year and slept in my dormitory. While a half-blood, she had top marks in our year at Charms, almost as good as Granger, and had her uses. So I kept her around.

"I would have rather if he hadn't, " I said honestly. "I know that everyone says he was a great Potions teacher back in the day, I mean he taught Snape himself, did he not?"

Tracey nodded. "Yeah, Slughorn was the Head of Slytherin and held the Potions position for generations. My father said _his_ father had been taught by Slughorn back in the fourties."

I shrugged. "I guess so. Still, I had been looking forward to doing my NEWT with Snape-not that I'm saying he won't be brilliant at Defense," I added quickly.

"Hardly difficult to beat our previous professors, though, isn't it?" Blaise chimed in now, from a few seats away. "Umbridge wasn't too bad, but you had to admit she was a toad, even if she kept Potter and his ilk in line. Better for that than teaching us useful curses."

_Aha. _Potter and his ilk. So Zabini wasn't too cozy with Dumbledore's people. This was good news. I had avoided meeting his gaze until now, not wanting to engage Zabini before I was ready. This could work in my favour though. It presented an opportunity.

"Yes," I said. "It's too bad though, no matter if Snape is on Defense now. Dumbledore will never allow him to teach the Dark Arts. That could be useful now, more than ever."

Blaise frowned. "There's a time and place for that," he said neutrally. "At least Snape will allow us to use our wands. That's something we have really only gotten to do with Moody, and maybe the werewolf, and I can't say I heartily approve of either."

I chose my next words carefully. "If Snape isn't allowed to do enough, we need to watch out for ourselves. I was thinking...what if we were to practice on our own?"

Blaise snorted, taking a sip from his goblet. "What, you mean like Potter's oh-so-secret Defense club that he started last year? What was it called, Dumbledore's Army? The second Slytherin students put together something like that, they'll snap our wands and throw us out the gates."

"No, of course not. I'm not an idiot," I said, letting the slightest sneer through my mask. "I was thinking more like just a few of us. As a small group, maybe just two or three of us could get together at a time and practice."

"Hmm. I guess there's potential there," he said. It was a non-committal answer, but it was left at that for now. A few nearby students had started to listen in and any talk of self-organizing had to be moderated, even within the House. That was how these things worked. If anyone showed too much or too little interest, it would only garner suspicion.

The feast continued and the conversation soon turned to politics.

"No one likes Scrimageour," Nott was saying. "But some thought Fudge was at least useful because we could play politics with him. Scrimageour plays politics, I'll grant you that, but he's much too close to the Aurors to get anything useful from him."

Malfoy was quick to interject. "What are you talking about? Fudge was miles ahead of Scrimageour. He at least understood the importance of blood, that there were some families more...worthy...of wielding political power."

I continued to feign interest but droned them out, still contemplating my next move as we finished our puddings. Should I try to talk to Zabini again? Would it accomplish anything? I felt frustrated at my own indecision. It was unlike me, which seemed to be a pattern lately.

Taking a chance, I stopped Blaise on the way out of the Great Hall, as we filed our way towards the dungeons ahead of the new students, who were being oriented by the Prefects.

"Have you put any more thought towards a few of working together on spells this term?" I asked.

"Yes, well," Blaise seemed just a bit reluctant, his brow furrowing, but I could tell he was willing to discuss it. I stepped a bit closer to him.

"I think we should see what Snape is allowed to teach us in Defense first, for starters," he said.

"Of course."

"I also would want to know a bit more about just what we would be practicing first. What do you have in mind, Greengrass?"

"Oh, I've got plenty of things in mind," I said, offering a faint smile. "If you're willing." This was about as far as I felt I could go. If he didn't get the idea quickly, he was pretty thick headed.

He didn't say anything at all for a moment. Then he shook his head, narrowing his dark eyes. "I've got a lot going on this year, so I'm not into anything that's going to waste my time, but thank you."

I let out a huff. "It's not like I'm proposing we form a Quidditch intramural, for Circe's sake."

"Even so," he said, folding his arms. "You'll excuse me if I'm not one for idle chatter, so let me know when you have some definitive plans."

It was a cold dismissal, even by my standards. Couldn't he see what I was getting at?

"Yes, another time, then," I said, and moved to leave. I wasn't going to be turned down that easily though. I felt a surge of desperation course through my veins. I had to get somewhere if I was going to ever hope to please the Dark Lord and join the ranks of the Death Eaters.

As I passed him, I stretched out a hand and brushed him on the shoulder, pausing just long enough so that it had to be something more than accidental. A half step past him, just at the bottom of the stairs, I stopped to gauge his reaction.

He hadn't moved. He was watching me. In fact, he showed no indication that I had done anything at all.

"Good night, and let me know about that," he said simply, and strode past me down the flight of stairs towards the common room. I stared for a moment as he departed, my mouse agape. Others were coming up the hall now, so I quickly closed my mouth and forced my face to its normal state, devoid of any emotion or concern.

Just then, I felt a tap on my own shoulder, and I whirled around, my fingertips barely an inch from my wand. It was a third year Ravenclaw with sandy hair – I didn't remember his name - clutching his own book bag. He looked terrified. "What is it-?"

"Excuse me, um, but I just wanted to ask you-"

"You're cute, but you're much too young for me," I snapped at the boy, feeling my temper flare, though I hadn't realized I was that angry.

"I was just going to ask you for a spare timetable, but if you're going to be rude then fine!" the younger boy exclaimed as I walked away. I ignored him and made my own way down to the common room. I had better things to worry about.

* * *

When I at last reached the solitude of the dormitory, and the other girls had gone to sleep, I sat on the blankets atop my own bed, my head propped up on the headboard. I had drawn the curtains and I stared at the knots in the wood high above on the ceiling of my four poster.

Nothing! He didn't seem to even react to my touch. Was I overthinking it? Maybe he didn't feel like it meant anything? Was he trying to play hard to get?

I bit my lip. All the other boys I had ever flirted with had at least shown some slight interest, if not asked me out right then and there! Zabini wasn't just any boy, though, and I had to have known that it would be better to take it slow. I shouldn't have even tried to do anything the first night back. I hadn't done my research. What was I thinking? Honestly, I didn't know what happened, but it did nothing to calm my nerves.

I needed to put this behind me. I was desperate to prove myself worthy, but if I came across as desperate I would surely fail. I slouched against the pillows, idly wiggling my toes. If my mother ever caught me in such awful posture, I thought to myself with a bemused smirk...

I forced myself to slow down my thoughts. I had the entire school year to make progress. Zabini wasn't going anywhere. He didn't even have a girlfriend right now, as far as I knew. This could not become my sole focus, even if it was my most important goal. I could not let Zabini or anyone else get to me. I started to change my plans. I would go about this much differently...

Daphne Greengrass, Ice Queen of Slytherin, was back. And no one would break through that impenetrable exterior, no matter what.

But as I fell asleep that night, one prevailing thought crossed my mind: this assignment could be far more difficult than I had imagined.


End file.
